‘Sign, dear.’
Nora picked it up.
The tiny click of the cap echoed in the room.
Celeste smiled.
Elliot watched Nora’s face.
Neither of them noticed Mrs. Alvarez, the housekeeper, pause in the hallway with a silver coffee pot and her phone tucked inside her apron pocket. Nora had spoken to her once at midnight, months earlier, after finding the older woman silently crying in the pantry because Celeste had accused her of stealing a brooch that later appeared in Celeste’s own dressing case.
Nora had not asked Mrs. Alvarez for loyalty.
She had offered dignity.
Sometimes that was stronger.
Nora bent over the documents. She let her hand hover over the signature line.
‘Before I sign,’ she said, ‘I want your mother to explain one thing.’
Celeste gave a soft laugh. ‘This is not a negotiation.’
‘No,’ Nora said. ‘It is a recording.’
The room changed so quickly even Gerard lowered his newspaper.
Elliot’s hand tightened on the chair. Celeste’s eyes flicked to the ceiling corners, then the sideboard, then the doorway. People who lived on secrets always searched for witnesses before they searched their conscience.
‘What did you say?’ Elliot asked.
Nora placed the pen across the unsigned documents.
‘Last night was recorded,’ she said. ‘So was dinner. So were three meetings with Mr. Harlan. And so was the call where Celeste told him to backdate the trust revision before the audit.’
Celeste went still.
For the first time since Nora had known her, not one part of her performed.
Elliot leaned closer. ‘You are lying.’
Nora turned her head enough to meet his eyes.
‘You should know by now I don’t bluff when paper is involved.’
His expression hardened, but fear moved under it like a fish beneath ice.
Celeste recovered first. Of course she did.
‘My dear,’ she said, ‘grief has made you unstable. Everyone has been so patient about your father, but paranoia can become dangerous.’
Nora smiled.
‘That is exactly why Dr. Fenwick signed a statement confirming my competence two weeks ago.’
Celeste’s face lost a fraction of color.
Elliot stepped around the chair. ‘Give me the phone.’
Nora did not move.
Mrs. Alvarez stepped fully into the doorway.
Behind her stood Mara.
Nora’s sister looked nothing like the Mercer women. No pearls, no careful society posture, no expensive softness. She wore a navy coat, rain on her shoulders, and fury so controlled it seemed carved.
Behind Mara stood two men in dark coats. One was Lenox, the investigator. The other carried a leather folder and the exhausted patience of someone who had served papers to worse men before breakfast.
Elliot stared at them.
‘You brought strangers into my home?’
Mara answered before Nora could.
‘Her home,’ she said. ‘Read the deed.’
Celeste turned on her. ‘You have no idea what you are interfering with.’
Mara lifted a folder. ‘Actually, I have copies.’
The man with the leather folder stepped forward and placed a thick packet on the breakfast table beside the toast.
Elliot did not look at it.
Celeste did.
The top page bore the seal of the court.
Temporary restraining order. Emergency injunction. Preservation of assets.
Nora watched Celeste read just enough to understand the morning had been taken from her.
‘This is absurd,’ Celeste whispered.
‘Absurd was thinking I would ignore
